


The Bullets From My Mouth

by Pippin



Series: Make It a Good One [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, LGBT characters, M/M, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippin/pseuds/Pippin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton is going to do great things, despite the universe fighting against him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of Eyes Like Broken Christmas Lights from Alex's POV, but you don't need to read that one first--they'll make sense in either order.

Alexander Hamilton had never felt as out of place in his life as he did standing in the doorway of his new room.  His roommate was clearly a rich kid at a school full of rich kids, and Alexander was the exact opposite of that.  He was only a bastard orphan from the Caribbean, pulled from poverty and a life that was doing its damn best to kill him, pulled out because he had written something that proved he was worthy of more than the hell he had been condemned to through some cruel twist of fate.

The way his roommate (Thomas, Alexander reminded himself, according to the door) was looking at him made Alexander want to scuttle right back to Nevis with his tail between his legs—and he had sworn to himself that he was never going back to that hell of his own free will.

Alexander took a deep breath.  “Alexander Hamilton,” he said, offering Thomas his hand.

Thomas stared at it like Alexander was offering him a dead fish instead of a hand to shake.  “Thomas Jefferson,” he said disdainfully, not even looking Alexander in the eyes.  “I cleaned out a few drawers for you.  I trust that you’ll stay out of my things.  I know where everything is and what all I have, and if anything vanishes…”  He let the sentence trail off, and Alex stared at him in shock.

“I’m not a thief.”

“Full ride student, thief, same thing,” Thomas said with a shrug, already back to pretty much ignoring Alexander.  “I know your type.  Poor, trying to better themselves, but only doing it through robbing those who have more.”

Alexander, for once in his life, held his tongue.  There was no point in getting into a fight with his roommate on the first day they met.

“I would prefer to stay and watch you unpack, make sure that nothing gets…mixed up.”

Alexander was about ready to scream.  He knew that he didn’t fit in—that he didn’t look right, that he didn’t sound quite right (he had been working on the accent, but hints still slipped through if he wasn’t paying perfect attention), that he didn’t belong—but he wasn’t a criminal.  Thomas was stereotyping him, despite not even knowing him.

Trying to ignore Thomas (hard to do when the other boy was watching his every move), Alexander finished unpacking as quickly as he could.  It didn’t take long; he didn’t have much.  He could hear Thomas making comments under his breath, and he wanted nothing more than to spin around and go off on the other—he was well-known for his words; that was how he had gotten to the United States and college, after all—but he knew that doing so would just make his roommate hate him more.

As soon as he was done, Alexander collapsed onto his bed.  He had had a long day, and he could tell that soon his body was going to give out on him—it had happened before, and he knew the signs that he was going to collapse.

“I know where everything is in here,” Thomas warned.  “I’m going to debate, and I’m going to check everything when I come back.”

Alexander perked up immediately.  “Debate?  Can I come along?”

Thomas sighed heavily.  “I suppose that I really am unable to stop you.”

Alexander was tempted to flip Thomas off, but didn’t.  He had to be the bigger man. 

After that small triumph of Alexander’s self-control—an extremely rare happenstance—he hopped up from his bed.  He had to pause for a moment in an attempt to not pass out, but soon enough he was ready to go.

“After you.”

* * *

Alexander was extremely glad to get into the building where the debate meeting was being held.  The weather was brutal, nothing that Alexander had ever experienced before.  He was a kid from the Caribbean, where temperatures in the fifties and sixties was awfully cold, and was not at all equipped to deal with temperatures below freezing.  He was wearing as many layers as he could and still be mobile, but it still wasn’t enough, so walking back into heat was a godsend.

Thomas entered the room and Alexander followed him, somewhat nervous.  He didn’t know how ready he was to have to face a room full of new people, new people who would want to know who he was and his story.

“Is this your new roommate, Thomas?” the student at the front of the room asked Thomas, although his eyes were on Alexander.

There was no way in hell that Alexander was going to let Thomas introduce him, so he stepped around his new roommate.

“Alexander Hamilton, sir,” he said, sticking his hand out.  “I’m a transfer student.”  It technically wasn’t a lie.

“Do you have any debate experience?” the apparent leader asked.

“There wasn’t enough…interest for a debate team,” Alexander replied.  That wasn’t true; the school had had a debate team, albeit a small one.  But, of course, Alexander hadn’t actually been allowed to attend the school—no one wanted to have any contact with the bastard—so the debate team that he had wanted to join had been out of his reach.

“Schuyler, Laurens, work with…Hamilton, was it?  Work with Hamilton, teach him the ropes.”

A pretty girl waved at Alexander, and, next to her—Alexander’s heart jumped—was an even prettier boy.  Alexander had known that he was bisexual for as long as he had known what the term was and meant, and the boy looked like someone that Alexander would be interested in—aesthetically, at least.  He would have to get to know the boy better before being interested for sure.

As he was making his way to his new debate partners, Alexander heard Thomas behind him.  “Full ride.”

Alexander wanted to turn around and shout that that wasn’t Thomas’ information to share, but he had to make a good impression on all the others in the room.  As such, he didn’t turn to yell, merely hissed in Creole under his breath.  “ _Unno kno who e tis u a play wit u kno_.”  _You don’t know who you’re messing with._

“I’m Angelica Schuyler, and this is John Laurens,” the girl said, pulling Alexander away from thoughts of murdering his roommate.  She had a pretty smile, and so did John, who was standing a little bit behind Angelica.  “I’m a senior, and John’s a freshman.  I’m assuming that you’re a freshman, too, since you’re rooming with Thomas.”

“I can’t stand him.”  That was a bit of an understatement, but Alexander didn’t actually have strong enough words to describe how he felt.  Then he had a brief moment of internal panic-what if they were friends with Thomas?

Angelica laughed, and Alexander’s heart returned to something close to a reasonable rate. 

“Join the club.  Do you know anyone other than him yet?”

“Well, I know the two of you.  That’s it, though.  I only just moved in.”  Making friends wasn’t high on Alexander’s voice, if he was honest with himself.  He just wanted to be the best and graduate as soon as possible.

“There’s a bunch of us meeting up at the coffee shop just off campus after the meeting is over.  Do you want to join us, unless John’s horribly opposed?”

“I don’t mind in the slightest,” John assured Alexander.

“Then I would love to.”

* * *

Learning to debate was exhilarating.  Alexander loved it—he knew that he had a way with words, and he was learning to use them more effectively to tear apart issues and people and it was everything that he loved to do, honestly.  There were times that he got called out on fallacies, something that he would slide into from being to passionate, but overall it went well.

When the meeting drew to a close, Alexander struggled back into all his layers, with Angelica laughing.

“Got enough layers there?”

Alexander was somewhat embarrassed, but he couldn’t not wear them.  He would freeze.  “I’m not used to the cold,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Oh?”

Alexander had already said too much, so he refused to say any more.  He wouldn’t say anything about the issue.

After a moment, Angelica said slowly, “Let’s get going, then.”

* * *

The three of them walked into the coffeeshop and Alexander immediately fell in love.  He had always wanted a place like this, a place like those he had seen in magazines and on television.  He hadn’t thought that places like that actually existed, but he was in one now, and he could tell that he would be spending a lot of time there.

There was a small group huddled in one corner, and another pretty girl waved at them (goddamn, they were all pretty; were all people here going to be so pretty?).

Angelica and John dragged Alexander over to the group.  John fell into one chair, and Angelica perched on the lap of the girl who had waved on them, although she soon shoved Angelica off.

“We brought a new student along.  Everyone, this is Alexander Hamilton.  He’s Thomas Jefferson’s new roommate.  Alexander, this is everyone.  My sisters, Peggy and Eliza, Lafayette, and Mulligan.  You already know John, of course.”

Alexander noticed that neither Peggy nor Eliza looked anything like Angelica, but he knew better than to say anything.  He was a bastard, after all—it was hardly his place to comment on things like that.

One of the boys (Alexander thought it was Lafayette, but he wasn’t sure; introductions had gone so quickly) murmured to John.  “Il est mignon.  Je frapperais que, si je ne dois quelqu'un à la maison. Il est trop adorable. Et il est dans un débat avec vous deux? Puis intelligent, trop.”   

Alexander’s ears perked up.  He hadn’t been expecting to hear French.  John was blushing, and, of course, Alexander was blushing as well.  He had to reply, though.  “Es-tu français? Je ne suis pas, mais je sais que la langue.”

Another one of the boys—process of elimination said Mulligan—groaned.  “Great.  Now there’s three of them.”

“Oui,” Lafayette said.  “I’m a foreign student.”

Alexander had figured as much.  He spoke perfect French, and his English was heavily accented.  There was no doubt that he really was French.

“And Laf’s non-binary,” Angelica announced.  “They pronouns, since they won’t tell you themselves.  They’re too used to getting mocked for the gender thing.  If you’re going to do that or if you have anything against the LGBT+ community, get out now.  The only one of us who’s straight is Mulligan.”

That came as a relief to Alexander.  He wasn’t ashamed of being bi, but he knew that a lot of people wouldn’t accept it or insist that he was denying being gay or any other similar situations.  “I’d be a goddamn hypocrite if I had anything against it.  Hard to hate the community when you’re bi yourself.”

Suddenly, John was on his feet and Alexander had a moment of worry before remembering that Angelica had said that they were all some form of not straight.

“I’m going to go order.  Angelica, Alexander, coming?”

Alexander shook his head.  He had no money; he couldn’t buy anything.  Coming up to the counter would just be an embarrassment.

“Come on,” John said, voice pleading.  “They have the best coffee, and their apple cake is to die for.”

That sounded very tempting—especially the caffeine; his body was still threatening to go out on him—but it didn’t magically put money in Alexander’s pocket.  He shook his head again.

“Dude.  It’s my treat.  A sort of ‘welcome to campus’ thing.  We’ve got to get you to like us _somehow_.”

John smiled and holy shit.  He had the most gorgeous smile, and it was completely infectious.  Alexander couldn’t help but mirror the smile.

“So you’re resorting to bribery?” he asked teasingly.

“Yup!” John replied, dragging Alexander up to the counter.

Their food was ready quickly—Alexander loved that.  He hadn’t gotten similar service at home, given that he was the pariah of the area.  And John was right—the coffee and cake were both fantastic.

They headed back to the table, Alexander waiting—praying, almost—for the caffeine to hit his system.

“Okay, so we need to do proper introductions,” Angelica said once they were back.  “I was thinking name, year, major, sexual orientation—since we’re mostly all LGBT+, and, honestly, I’m nosy—pronouns, and where you’re from.  I’ll start.  I’m Angelica Schuyler, a senior, I’m majoring in hospitality, I’m gay, she/her, and I’m from Brooklyn.”

“Eliza Schuyler, sophomore, English, bi, she/her, and also from Brooklyn.”

The last girl, whose name Alexander had completely forgotten already, sighed, making John laugh.  It was a beautiful sound.  “I’m the youngest Schuyler sister.  Peggy.  I’m a freshman majoring in intel.  I’m ace and aro, she or they—I’m demigirl, so I don’t care between those two—and, in case those two being my sisters didn’t give it away, I am _also_ from Brooklyn.”

“Hercules Mulligan, but everyone calls me Mulligan.  Make any mythology jokes and I’ll hurt you.”  He winked with a smile at Alexander.  “I’m a junior and a fashion major—and don’t comment on that, either.  I’m the token straight friend, since usually people talk about the token gay friend, he/him, and am from Manhattan.  Bit of a rougher neighborhood than the Schuyler girls, for all we actually live pretty close together.”

“Oui, we get it, you’re a ruffian,” Lafayette replied, humor in his voice.  “My name is long, so really all you need to worry about is that I go by Lafayette or Laf.  Sophomore history major, pan, they/them, and, in case you didn’t notice yet, I’m French.”

Alexander watched everyone’s faces closely as they introduced themselves.  He needed to learn about these people, needed them to like him.

“I’m John Laurens.  Freshman, poli-sci major, gay, he/him, and I’m from Charleston, South Carolina.”

Alexander was so focused on John’s face that he didn’t realize it was his turn, until he did, with a start.  “I’m Alexander Hamilton.  Freshman.  I’m double majoring in poli-sci and pre-law, with a minor in English.”

“Damn,” someone murmured.  .

“I’m bi and he/him.”  He took a bite of cake.  He wasn’t going into any more detail there.

“Where are you from?” Angelica asked.

“Not important,” Alexander said.  “All that matters is that there’s a million things I haven’t done.”

Angelica looked like she wasn’t about to take that as an answer.  “Okay.  You said you’re from somewhere that doesn’t get cold, which takes out a good chunk of the country.  You also have a bit of an accent, so I’d say that you’re actually an international student.  I don’t know what the hell it was that you said when Thomas said what he did, but it definitely wasn’t English, even though some words sounded familiar—I’d say a form of creole?  We’ve already established that you’re not from inside the country, so…Caribbean?”

They weren’t doing this.  Alexander couldn’t do this.  “I said that it’s not important.”

“There’s no reason to hide where you’re from,” Angelica said.  “It’s not like we’re going to judge you.  And the Caribbean?  That’s kind of cool.  Well, warm, but you know what I mean.”

That was too much, and he stood quickly.  “I’ve got to get going.”

He hurried out of the coffee shop, leaving behind the remnants of his coffee and cake (he sort of regretted that, but he wasn’t going back for them).

He burst back into the room, and Thomas looked up.  “Are you going to be quiet?” he asked snippily, and Alexander flipped him off before collapsing into bed.  He had gotten home fueled by the bit of caffeine from his coffee and sheer rage, but that wasn’t going to hold up any longer, and he needed to rest and refuel before classes started.

He knew that he really shouldn’t go to bed angry, but there was nothing to be done about it—he passed out before he could do anything to calm down.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classes start, a reconciliation, and a minor assault.

Alexander had a talent for holding grudges, or, at least, for remembering the wrongs done him.  His past was a touchy subject and always had been, even when he was still living in the Caribbean, his own personal hell (he had some sort of weird national pride—Nevis was his home country—but, at the same time, it was his past and it was behind him and there was no way in hell that he was ever going to admit to any of it).  Having people push him about it—people that he had thought were going to be his friends—both hurt and terrified him.  For one, it meant that they didn’t respect his boundaries (they might just not have realized they were pushing too hard; they had all had very different than he himself had, the rational part of his brain reminded him).  On top of that, none of them had even tried to apologize, except Peggy.  She was terrifyingly smart and observant, Alexander had noted.  It was no wonder that she was an intel major.

At the same time, however, Alexander really didn’t _want_ to hold a grudge against them—he wanted friends.  It hadn’t been in his plan; the plan had just been to throw himself into his work and be the absolute best, rise above his birth, but he had honestly enjoyed meeting all of them.

He had to ignore it.  There was so much he had to be doing before classes started in a few days, things to take up all his time. 

The first thing that Alexander did was go get his books.  “God, these things are so expensive,” he muttered, looking at the price list for all the books he needed.  But there were no other options, so he had to get the books.

He ran up to his room to throw his books on his desk (thankfully, Thomas wasn’t there), then headed back out to look for his classrooms.  He wasn’t about to be late for his first day of classes just because he didn’t know where anything was on campus.  Luckily, nothing was that hard to find.

* * *

Alexander was almost half an hour early to his first class—he had to make a good impression, had to be able to keep his scholarship.  The best part about being that early, though, was being able to choose where he wanted to sit instead of having to bicker over the best seats.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

It _would_ be his luck to have John in his class.  Alexander merely shrugged before turning back to his textbook.  Sure, he minded, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop John from sitting wherever he wanted.

“Listen, I’m sorry about Angelica.  She’s not exactly used to boundaries.”

Great, John was going to try and make conversation.  Well, he could be passive-aggressive about it—he didn’t have to be _nice_. 

“Peggy told me pretty much the same thing.  She followed me out to apologize, more than I can say for any of the rest of you.”

He heard John’s sharp intake of breath.  Good.  Let him realize that he’d fucked up.

“I can’t speak for any of the others, but I can tell you that I really didn’t know what to do.  When I’m upset I like to be left alone, and I thought that maybe you were the same.  Alexander, I like you a lot, and I want to be your friend.  May I try again?”

 _I like you a lot_.  He didn’t know if that meant the same way that Alexander liked John, but it was something.  Maybe it could become something more.

He finally met John’s eyes.  “Of course.  Just don’t pry, okay?  If I say that I don’t want to talk about something, respect that.  I have reasons.” 

“Like I said, I’m sorry.  How’s rooming with Thomas?”

Oh god, Thomas.  Alexander couldn’t stand his roommate and would do anything he could to avoid him.  It was an awful situation, but not one that he was able to get out of.

“Don’t even get me started.  We disagree on everything, he mocks me, and it’s a right pain in the ass.  I think that we have far too many differences for us to ever get along.  Although, I don’t think that I would want to get along with him.”

John laughed—and his laugh was the cutest thing, god almighty.  “He’s either despised or worshiped around here.  Even the upperclassmen know him, mostly since he writes for the school paper.  He’s a dick—I’m glad you don’t like him.  He intentionally uses male pronouns for Laf, writes opinion pieces against the LGBT+ community in general and our club in specific, mocks Mulligan for being a fashion major, hits on all three Schuyler sisters and treats them as if they’re all the same person, and that’s just the things he does to our group.”

Alexander wrinkled his nose.  He’d already known that Thomas was awful, but that cemented his opinion even more.  “And I’m stuck with him for the rest of the semester.  It’s been all of four days—today being number five—and I already can’t wait to get out.”

“You know that if you have a bad roommate situation you can request to be moved, right?”

Alexander felt his cheeks heat up.  “I can’t.  There're some things that happen if you’re moved, and you…” He took a deep breath.  “You heard what he said.  Full ride.  If I’m moved I have to pay for a new room, and my scholarship wouldn’t cover it.”  It wasn’t anything that John didn’t already know.

“I see.”

Alexander was about to reply, but then the professor entered the room and started class, cutting off any further conversation.

* * *

There were ten minutes between back-to-back classes, and Alexander’s next class was across campus.  That wasn’t far, exactly, but he still had to go.  As he put his notebook away, John slipped him a piece of paper. 

“Text me?”

Alexander nodded, slipping the paper into his pocket and trying not to look as excited as he was.  Getting John’s number was good.

* * *

**To: John**

_This is Alexander._

**From: John**

_Do you want to join me for lunch?  Laf and Mulligan will be there, too._

**To: John**

_I’d love to.  When and where am I to meet you?_

**From: John**

_Dining hall.  11:45._

* * *

Alexander hadn’t exactly been planning on eating, but an invitation was welcome and friends were good to have.  His class ended at 11:35, giving him time to run back to his dorm to swap out his books and use the bathroom before meeting his friends in the dining hall.

He walked in and was about to text John to ask where they were, but before he could even pull out his phone he caught sight of John waving from across the room.  He headed over to his friends.

“Il est agréable de vous revoir, Alexander,” Lafayette when he walked up.

“Je vous souhaite la même chose. Je suis désolé de manquer sur vous tous l'autre jour. Sujet délicat.”

Mulligan groaned.  “English, please.”

Alexander hadn’t even entirely realized that he had been speaking French.  “I’m sorry for running out on all of you the other day.”

Mulligan shook his head.  “We should be sorry, not you.  We should have stopped Angelica when you asked her to stop.”

Well, yes, but Alexander wasn’t about to say that.

Before he could say anything, someone’s stomach growled.

“I guess we should go get food…”

Alexander loved that the dining hall was all-you-could-eat—he had grown up with so little food, and so low quality of what there was, that the idea of so much food was almost hypnotic.  He didn’t quite know what to make of it.

“How are classes going?” Mulligan asked when everyone was back.  “I know it’s only the first day, but from the syllabuses and whatnot, how do they look?”

John shrugged.  “It’s still gen eds and freshman level courses.  Nothing too stressful.”

“I think that I’ll be able to understand all my professors this semester,” Lafayette said.  “That’s an improvement.  And they are okay with calling me Lafayette, Dieu merci.”

“Alexander?”

Alexander looked up at hearing his name.  He hadn’t really been paying attention, but he had heard Hercules’ question.

“I thought that I would be busier, with more classes, and harder ones.”

“You _want_ to be working harder?” Mulligan asked, staring at Alexander.  “Are you crazy?”

“I’m here to make something of myself.  I need to be the best.  I can’t go back.”

That might not have been the best thing to say, but it was too late now.  In addition to giving away part of his past, it sounded a little sketchy, but, to Alexander’s relief, no one pushed any further.

Unfortunately, Alexander had another class, so he couldn’t stay as long as he would have liked.  He pulled all his layers back on—damn, he hated the cold; he had thought that it had been cold when it dropped to fifty back in Nevis, but that had nothing on this, with the temperatures below freezing—and headed out to class. 

The class was his freshman seminar, but it was on the Cold War, so that was interesting.  It was also nice to get a glimpse into American history, seeing as he hadn’t had that before—at least, not officially.  He had read some books on US history, but he had never formally studied it.

* * *

When Alexander got out of class, he had a text from John.

**From: John**

_Would you be interested in hanging out tonight?  I have a collection of movies in my room._

He was about to reply that yes, he would love to, but then he thought about what day it was.

**To: John**

_Isn’t there debate tonight?_

**From: John**

_Damn, you’re right.  I’ll see you then._

**To: John**

_Maybe afterwards?_

**From: John**

_Sounds great!_

**To: John**

_It’s a date :)_

That had probably been too risky to say.  His fears were only cemented when John didn’t reply.  Damn it all, he had scared John off.

* * *

Cold War was his last class, so Alexander headed back to his room with the intention of grabbing a nap before debate.  He hadn’t slept the night before (or for several nights before that; Thomas snored, so he took the opportunity to do some writing instead), and the lack of sleep was catching up with him. 

Unfortunately, Thomas was in the room when Alexander walked in.  He glanced up, sneered, then turned back to whatever he was doing.  Resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to get to sleep, Alexander pulled out his laptop and opened the essay he had been working on, one about LGBT rights.

He worked on that until it was time to go to debate (he hadn’t _meant_ to skip dinner, it had just sort of happened). 

By nature of the fact that they were both in the club, Alexander followed Thomas there, which turned into an argument.

The argument would have possibly escalated, but Alexander caught sight of John and immediately turned away from Thomas, the argument forgotten.

“My dear John,” he said, trying to sound upbeat and not like he had panicking for several hours over the text he had sent John.  “How are the rest of your classes?”

“Good,” John said.  “Not much exciting.  You?”  Well, at least John was talking to him.  Alexander couldn’t quite read John’s tone, but he didn’t sound upset, just neutral.

“Good, same as you.  I have one on the Cold War that looks very interesting, especially as that’s not a topic I ever learned much about.  The others are just the stuff I have to take before I can get into anything that’s actually related to what I want to do.”

“What do you want to do?”

Alexander shrugged.  He knew exactly what he wanted to do, but he had been told that his dream was ridiculous.  “Be a lawyer, make a difference.  Stand up for the people who can’t stand up for themselves, who no one listens to.  No one should have to go through that, especially since it’s the people who can’t afford the lawyers who so often need one.  There are people in jail who are only there because their state-appointed lawyer didn’t really care enough to help them win their case.  I want to eliminate that.  Maybe go into politics one day; I’m not sure.  I really just want to help people.”  He wanted to help the people like he had been.  No one had cared about him after his mother had died.

“That’s a great cause.  Have you ever been in any protests?”

Alexander shook his head.  “That sort of thing didn’t really happen...before.  If it did, though, I would have been there.  Sometimes that’s the only way to actually get anything done, since it’s the only way to get anyone to listen, to notice.”

Angelica was sneaking up on John, gesturing for Alexander to remain silent.  She dropped her hands onto John’s shoulders and he jumped.  “God, Angelica.  Can you please try to _avoid_ giving me a heart attack?”

Angelica laughed.  “You love me.”

John made a noncommittal noise, and Alexander laughed.

“Oh, Alexander, by the way.  I’m sorry, really.”  Angelica grinned tentatively at Alexander, then looked very relieved when he grinned back.  He had to accept and forgive people’s flaws (except Thomas’.  But Thomas was a different case.”

“Apology accepted.”

“All right, we’re trying something a bit different tonight,” Washington called, bringing the meeting to a start.  “I’m going to assign a topic, and you’ll have twenty minutes to do your research, the usual.  But this week I’m going to assign you all a number, and you’ll get your debate partners at random that way.  I feel like you’re getting complacent, debating the same person every week, since you know their style.  This way you’ll get a bit of a challenge, a new experience.  We have a tournament coming up, so it’ll come in handy.  Here’s the topic: civil disobedience in a democracy is morally justified.  Be prepared to argue either side.”

Alexander started scribbling down ideas in his chicken scratch.  He knew which side he was on, but he had to able to argue either side.

Once the time was up, Washington assigned debate partners.  To his—horror?  Excitement?  He wasn’t actually sure—Alexander was paired with Thomas.

They ended up being perfectly matched, able to counter anything the other said.  It was fun, especially seeing the look on Thomas’ face.

Finally, Washington intervened.

“Enough, enough.  I’m giving this win to Alexander.  While both arguments are nearly flawless, his is better.”

Thomas shook his head.  “Oh, you bastard,” he muttered in defeat.

That was _not_ okay—it was a touchy subject.  Alexander had been heading over to talk to John and Angelica, but he instead he turned around and punched Thomas in the face. 

Chaos broke out.

“What the hell!”

“Alexander!”

Thomas had collapsed—god, Alexander hadn’t meant to hit him that hard, but sometimes he didn’t realize how hard he would hit when he was that mad—and Thomas’ friend James was taking care of him. 

Washington dropped his hand onto Alexander’s shoulder in a firm grasp, making Alexander wince, both from the tightness of Washington’s hold and the reminder that he had done wrong.  He couldn’t become an outcast here like he had been at home.

“Fighting will not be tolerated.”

“Even if he deserved it?”

“No one deserves getting punched in the face.”

“I beg to differ,” Alexander muttered.  Thomas had mentioned the bastard thing.  He needed to be punched.

“Since this was the first time, I’ll let you go with a warning.  Do it again and we’ll go to the staff.  Do you understand me?” Washington asked firmly.

Alexander nodded, then, as soon as Washington’s grasp was gone, hurried over to John and Angelica.

“Does that movie night offer still stand?” he asked, biting his lip and hoping that John didn’t hate him.  He had made a—joke?—about the movie night being a date (he really wanted it to be one…) and then he had punched Thomas.  It wasn’t a good situation.

“Of course,” John said, much to Alexander’s relief.

“Then let’s go.”

* * *

Aaron was at his girlfriend’s dorm, so the two boys had the room to themselves.  “What do you want to watch?” John asked, spreading his DVD collection across his bed.

“I don’t care.  You choose.”

“What’s your favorite?”

Alexander hesitated.  “I…don’t know.  I didn’t really watch movies growing up.  Only a few Disney movies here and there.”  TV had been more money than they had been willing or able to spend.

“Okay.”

John chose _The Princess Bride._   “You’ll love this one.  The title is misleading.  And I promise not to quote along, since you’ve not seen it.”

Alexander arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.  He wasn’t convinced, but John said it was one of his favorites, and so Alexander was willing to try it.

* * *

There was silence in the room as the movie played.  Alexander honestly hadn’t expected the movie to be as good as it was.  It wasn’t a chick flick at all, which, honestly, had been what he had thought it was from the title.

As the credits played, John looked at Alexander.  “What do you think?”

“I love it.  And I’d love to stay longer, but I really should get back to my room.  Reading to do, all that.”

“Of course.  I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

* * *

Walking into his room was one of the most nerve-wracking things that Alexander had done all day, and that was including the date text to John.  Luckily, however, Thomas wasn’t there.  Taking advantage of that, Alexander fell into bed and, imagining his pillow was John, fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back, almost exactly a month later. I'd been putting off writing this because of shit going down in Eyes and the other two new oneshots in Eyesverse (check them out; I'm super proud of them).

**Author's Note:**

> French translations are in the Eyes notes, as are most important points. Not much to say here, other than I wrote most of this while listening to the Democratic debate, sort of.


End file.
